Tarantula

Philip Ridley

• Publisher: Methuen Drama
• Year: 2021
• ISBN:
  9781350274471
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: British Drama
• Index: Literature

Of course – as you've no doubt guessed – there's a big 'But Then' moment heading this way… It's a sunny, spring day in East London.
On a street corner, two teenagers kiss.
One of them is Toni. This is her first kiss.
It makes her very happy. But someone is watching.
Someone who doesn't care about her happiness at all.
And they're about to change Toni's life… forever. Philip Ridley's thrilling new play is a startling exploration of identity, memory, love, and the lengths it takes someone to free themselves from the web of their past.

Characters

Toni

Toni That day . . . oh, it was hot. Tropical. I woke up and – The sun! I’m sweating. And it’s only – what’s the time? . . . Eight o’clock! Three hours till I meet Michael –

Freezes.

Very long pause.

Then brightly clicks into –

I’d been up most of the night working out what to wear. Michael had only seen me in my school uniform so I wanted to put on something a bit more – you know -– Ta-dah! Trouble was, I didn’t have many ‘Ta-dah!’ clothes. Didn’t have any. Well, I’d never really been on a date before! I wasn’t sure I was going on one now. A question for you. Is it necessary to say to someone, ‘Let’s go on a date’, for it to actually be ‘a date’? That’s what they do in films. Well, don’t they? Someone says, ‘Fancy seeing a movie or something?’ And the person being asked says, ‘Like on a date?’ And the other person says, ‘Yeah!’ So they both know. But me and Michael –

Freezes.

Long pause.

Then brightly clicks into –

I haven’t told you how we met! – Listen! If there’s something I don’t explain properly – Just ask. I won’t mind.

Deep breath.

‘Nemo Sibi Nascitur.’ Know what that means? ‘No one is born unto themselves.’ My old school motto. Miss Adepo – head teacher – she took those words very seriously. She used to organise charity events – lots of them – for the local community. Jumble sales. Sponsored walks. You know the sort of thing. All the pupils were expected to help. Most didn’t. I did. I enjoyed helping. The event I enjoyed the most? The ‘Afternoon Tea for Seniors’. This happened on the last Friday of the spring term. The school didn’t make the – to use a Miss Adepo word – ‘edibles’. That was ‘outsourced’ – another Miss Adepo word – to a local caterers. For years – at least as long as I’d been going to the school – it’d been done by Scrummybelle Sarnies – I am not making that up – but the previous year, Scrummybelle had arrived an hour late, and their sarnies had been anything but scrummy, so this year it was being done by the more prosaically named Fern’s Organic Catering. They arrived twenty minutes early, and in a van so polished you could see your face in it. I could tell Miss Adepo was impressed. And relieved. ‘Toni, do you think you could possibly –?’ ‘Help them unload? I’d love to, miss.’ A woman introduced herself as ‘Fern of Fern’s Organics’, and then – indicating someone about my age – said, ‘And this is my son – Michael.’

Freezes.

Long pause.

Then brightly clicks into –

The Afternoon Tea’s in full swing! – ‘More tea, sir? Don’t worry, I can reach your cup from here . . . What was that, madam? . . . Water? I’ll fetch you a jug!’ – Michael’s come over to speak to me a couple of times. He goes to Morpeth which, along with my school, is one of the top five in East London. Actually, I think mine’s number one, but I don’t like to boast. Well, I do. I am. Michael – same as me – is taking his A levels this summer. He’s doing Art, Media Studies, and . . . something else . . . Graphic Design. He’s interested in photography too. I told him I was. I’m not. I could be. Where’s Michael now? . . . Over there! I like the way he moves. He’s so . . . poised. Like a gymnast – He’s waving!

Waves.

He’s got a nice smile . . . – ‘Oh, hello, Mr Webb! Didn’t recognise you with your new hair style . . . Yes, yes, I love it! What can I get for you? . . . More salmon sandwiches?! Coming right up!’ – Michael’s looking at me again. Should I wave? Should I – ? ‘Mrs Danjuma! Lovely to see you again – Ooo, I like your shirt! Very cheerful! Can I get you anything? . . . Well, just call if you need me.’ I’ve still got to get a jug of water for – ‘You really enjoy talking to everyone, don’t you.’ Michael’s next to me. Very close. ‘I do, yeah! Mrs Danjuma – rainbow shirt – I wrote an essay about her.’ There’s the jug! ‘Her wife died last year. She told me how they first met, and all the prejudice they’d experienced as a same-sex couple – Can you grab that platter of sandwiches, please?’ ‘Where’s it going?’ ‘Man with the lavender hair.’ ‘Oh, what a character!’ ‘There’re all great characters!’ ‘Here’s your sandwiches, sir – You know what I think. Toni?’ ‘What do you think, Michael?’ He indicates I should lean closer. I can feel his breath on my cheek. ‘Old faces are so beautiful.’ ‘That’s what I think! – Your water, madam! Sorry for the delay! – I love that thing Twiggy said – the model from the 1960s?’ ‘I do know who Twiggy is.’ ‘Of course you do. Sorry.’ ‘And I think I know what quote you’re going to say too.’ ‘You can’t!’ ‘I think I do!’ ‘Go on, then.’ ‘’I love my wrinkles because I’ve earnt every one of them!’’ ‘Yes! That’s it! That’s it!’

A beat.

Then –

The Tea’s over. I’m sitting in a corner of the hall with Michael and his mum. We’re eating the remaining sandwiches. ‘These are great, Fern.’ And they are! I’m not being polite. Well, I am. But I’m not faking it. Fern says, ‘We try our best – Don’t we, hon?’ ‘We do, Mum.’ Fern notices the way I’m looking at Michael. She gives me a smile. ‘THANK YOU ALL AGAIN!’ Miss Adepo has stepped into the hall. ‘SAFE JOURNEY HOME!’ She steps out. ‘I think that’s our cue to go – Toni, will you give us a hand putting the –’ ‘Things back in the van. I’d love to, Fern.’ I help Michael collect the platters. He looks at me. That smile again. He thinks it’s charming. He’s right. ‘What’re you up to tonight, Toni? Anything special?’ ‘I’ve got an essay to finish on pain and rebirth in Sylvia Plath’s The Bell Jar.’ Why did I say that? ‘Sounds like fun.’ ‘It is actually.’ Why did I say that? ‘What’re you up to, Michael?’ ‘Friday night’s movie night for me and Mum. And her boyfriend. We cook dinner, then one of us chooses what to watch. It’s a family “thing”.’ ‘My family doesn’t do anything like that.’ ‘Toni, I know we’ve only just met but . . . I think there’s a real connection between us. Do you feel it too or am I just imagining things?’ ‘Oh . . . well, no – I mean, yes . . . there is some –’ ‘Could I . . . could I have your phone number please?’ ‘. . . Yeah. Sure.’ ‘I think you’re special, Toni.’ Should I tell him I think he’s special too? I’m not sure, but I feel I should say something nice back – ‘Thanks for all your help, Toni.’ ‘Oh! My pleasure, Fern. It’s been great meeting you. Both of you!’ Fern closes the back doors of the van. She looks at Michael, then me, then back at Michael. She gives him the smile she gave me earlier. She gets in the front of the van. Michael mouths, ‘I’ll phone you.’ He’s getting in the van. I imagine watching a movie with him. We’re on his sofa. I’ll probably lean against him a little bit. He’ll probably have his arm round me. We’ll laugh and jump at the same things. Something sad will happen. One of us will cry. Probably him. I might kiss him. On the lips – No! On the cheek! – No . . .

Touches neck.

Here . . .

Slight pause.

Then –

It’s that day again. I’m heading for the bathroom. I’m going over the phone call I’ve had with Michael. He called last night. We talked for two hours and twenty minutes. That’s longer than most movies. Michael told me how – last year – he and his mum – and the boyfriend she was seeing at the time – went to . . . that music festival? – Glastonbury! – and they all slept in a green tent, and Michael said, when the sun shone through the fabric, it was like ‘living in a blade of grass’. Isn’t that brilliant? I said, ‘You should be a writer.’

‘No, no, photography’s my thing.’ ‘What photographers do you like?’ ‘Oh, lots. My favourite is Cindy Sherman.’ ‘Haven’t heard of her. Sorry.’ ‘Oh, I think you’d really like her stuff. I’ve got a book about her. I’ll show you.’ ‘I’d love that!’ ‘Who’s your favourite writer, Toni?’ ‘Toni Morrison! I like to say I was named after her. I’m not, but –’ ‘Print the legend, eh?’ ‘Exactly!’ – Aww!

Trips, stumbles.

It’s one of Rochelle’s toys! She leaves them all over the bloody place. Someone’s going to break their fucking neck on – Eh? What d’you say? . . . I haven’t told you who Rochelle is. Sorry. Mea culpa. That’s Lat...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Contents
• Philip Ridley – Biography
• Tarantula
• Characters
• eCopyright